


Paper and Glue and Cinnamon Incense

by QueenNeehola



Category: Adekan
Genre: M/M, NSFW, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNeehola/pseuds/QueenNeehola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro’s a small, light thing, but the ripples of lithe muscles beneath his pale skin mean that he has no trouble pushing Kojiro onto his back and pinning him there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper and Glue and Cinnamon Incense

**Author's Note:**

> A totally self-indulgent Kojiro/Shiro pwp.

Shiro’s a small, light thing, but the ripples of lithe muscles beneath his pale skin mean that he has no trouble pushing Kojiro onto his back and pinning him there.

“Shiro—” Kojiro starts to say, but Shiro kisses him to shut him up and his brain flatlines.  Shiro’s mouth is as small as the rest of him, hot and wet and his _tongue_ , oh _god_ his tongue, curling and twisting and gliding teasingly over Kojiro’s teeth and the ticklish roof of his mouth.

Shiro breaks the kiss when he’s sure that Kojiro is suitably subdued, and nips gently at Kojiro’s lips and jaw and neck, eventually settling for grazing his teeth gently over Kojiro’s Adam’s apple.  His breath splays hot over the skin there, and Kojiro exhales a shaky breath, his eyes lidding half-closed of their own accord.

“Calmed down now, _Officer_?” Shiro asks, and Kojiro feels the smirk against his throat.  It’s not his name, it’s never _Kojiro_ , never even _Yamada_ , but if anything that only makes it worse, especially now.  His rank rolling lazily off Shiro’s tongue – the tongue that was inside his own _mouth_ until mere moments ago, and might still be elsewhere before the night is out – somehow sounds far more _lewd_ to Kojiro than anything else, and he grits his teeth and doesn’t answer.

 

There’s a sharp bite to his neck that makes Kojiro’s eyes open wide and then a kiss, gentle as the beat of a butterfly’s wings, which softens his expression again and makes his face burn.

Shiro lifts off of him with ease, perching lightly on his hips instead, but Kojiro doesn’t make to escape, much to his own surprise.  He’s breathing heavily and flushed pink in contrast to Shiro’s calm, unruffled demeanour, and he feels foolish, but Shiro says nothing to berate him.

Shiro disrobes suddenly, in one swift movement.  For a change, there are no knives hidden about him, nothing strapped by belts and buckles to his arms and thighs and chest, and Kojiro can’t help the ridiculous warmth that blooms in his chest at the thought that Shiro doesn’t feel the need to be even a _little_ cautious around him, until—

Oh, of _course_ he isn’t wearing underwear.

 

“Sh-Shiro-ku—  Shiro…-kun…!”

_Yes, that_ is _my name,_ Shiro wants to say, but his mouth is otherwise occupied at the moment, so he can’t.

He keeps his eyes fixed on Kojiro’s face as he works his mouth in a routine he’d rather not think about how he acquired.  Kojiro’s eyebrows are drawn together, eyes scrunched tight and cheeks flushed a glorious pink, and his mouth alternates between pressing closed and hanging open as he pants for air and gasps words that mostly sound like Shiro’s name.

Shiro thinks he’s beautiful like this, on his back with his legs spread and chest heaving and hands scrabbling uselessly at anything and everything for purchase.  Shiro thinks it’s especially beautiful because _he_ is the cause of it.

Shiro thinks he must really be a sadist after all.

 

Kojiro thinks, in his limited still-functional brain capacity, that Shiro is entirely _too calm_ about the current situation, especially as he lifts himself up off Kojiro’s bare hips and carefully spreads himself open and slowly lowers until—

_oh god oh god oh **god**_

The heat is all-consuming, setting Kojiro alight from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes, burning him from the inside out.  It goes on and on for minutes or hours or maybe even _days_ , until Kojiro’s legs have long since gone numb, and his mouth is dry, throat raw from the yells being ripped from it over and over.  He’s sure he’s gone mad, so intense is the tight hotness surrounding him, _choking_ him almost, again and again, stealing the very breath from his lungs.

He makes the mistake of looking at Shiro’s face, and Shiro is biting his lip and breathing so hard his nostrils are flaring and his eyes are half-closed, and that’s when it’s all over for Kojiro.

He vaguely remembers the smell of paper and glue and cinnamon incense before he unravels at the seams.

 

The air is hot and heavy and Shiro is still naked as he butts his face into Kojiro’s cheek, choosing to ignore the sheet that Kojiro has pulled about his own bare waist.

“I didn’t know Officer was such a virtuous maiden,” he teases, and Kojiro huffs in embarrassment and rolls away from him.

Shiro just laughs and presses up against his back and kisses in between his shoulder blades.


End file.
